


Steel and Sand

by weymouth



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Weight Gain, tummies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weymouth/pseuds/weymouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in their little cottage off the grid has made Hannibal and Will happier than they could have imagined</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Will watches from the window as Hannibal chops wood in the yard. It’s chilly outside but Hannibal’s sweater lies discarded on the ground among the leaves. Will knows he has enough padding of his own to keep him warm. There are beads of sweat running down Hannibal's spine and pooling in the small of his back. His belly wobbles with the motion of the swinging axe.

Will remembers how they dragged themselves from the sea. The shared understanding that their world was fundamentally changed. When the wounds healed and the last of the bandages came off, they seemed to emerge as wholly new things. And they set their focus on building a new life together. For Hannibal that had included a lot of eating. He was extremely pleased with their metamorphosis and when Hannibal was pleased he was self-indulgent. The weight he began to gain was of no concern to him.

The fifty—maybe nearing sixty now—extra pounds give him a thicker, sturdier appearance that better matches his strength. He has love handles instead of the visible outline of ribs. A layer of softness over his muscled arms and chest. There are creases on his lower back that hint at the beginning of rolls. And of course his growing belly. Hannibal was always soft at the middle so it's unsurprising that most of the weight goes to his belly. His gut is heavy and round yet still doughy and soft. Will is mesmerized by the bounce and heft of it. He loves that Hannibal is big enough to lift his own bulk in his hands. He loves that Hannibal’s gut hangs over him when Hannibal pins his wrists to the mattress.

It means something to Will that Hannibal’s body is strong and powerful yet soft and yielding. He remembers, years ago, spending sleepless nights plodding through fields. Not looking back at his house until he was far enough away to get the full effect. He had to work so hard at feeling safe back then. Now he only has to look out the window. Through his own reflection in the glass is Hannibal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those responsible for impressing upon me that Hannibal loves marshmallows know who they are <3

On nights when it’s not too cold they like to go down to the beach to build a fire on the sand. Will brings a picnic basket packed with supplies for making s’mores. Hannibal brings a pocketknife to fashion marshmallow-toasting sticks from branches found along the way. As the days get shorter they set out earlier to make the most of the sunlight. Sometimes they leave right after dinner, though Will still packs plenty of marshmallows. He insists that there’s always room for dessert—echoing his words at the table where he had insisted that there’s always room for seconds. Hannibal agrees easily and they set off for the path to the shore. Once the fire is crackling they curl around each other and dip their sticks into the flames.

Before the cliff Hannibal would have never allowed processed Kraft marshmallows in his home. He would have even taken them from Will—confiscated the bag while promising to make him the real thing with marshmallow root and gelatin. But so much has changed since they emerged from the Atlantic ocean. Hannibal doesn’t need to prove his good taste in a show of wealth and finery. In fact, with all his worldly possessions lost to a past life, the only thing Hannibal needs is Will’s companionship. Finding happiness with Will has allowed him to truly appreciate the primal simplicity of their new life together.

“Another?” Will asks, holding out a marshmallow.

Even in the firelight it’s obvious that Hannibal’s stomach is distended from a large dinner and a few s’mores already. Will is openly staring, tracking the movement of Hannibal’s hand over his gut as he rubs himself and winces. Will has been watching all night—first at the table and then on the walk to the beach, where he lagged behind to admire the slight totter in Hannibal’s after-dinner gait. Not that Hannibal minds the attention. It’s been a pleasure to see Will’s interest grow along with his weight.

He takes the marshmallow and spears it on his stick.

They had both been surprised to discover that Hannibal enjoyed junk food, though perhaps they should not have been. He had Will and he had his freedom so it didn’t matter that the food that was available wasn’t up to his usual standards. Hannibal was just after the sheer pleasure of eating, tasting, and feeling full. The weight he began to gain was one of many new developments in their new world. As was Will’s apparent interest.

Hannibal traps the toasted marshmallow between graham cracker squares and ducks his head to take a bite. Instantly there’s goo smearing in his beard and drips of melted chocolate making a mess of his jacket. He should hate the indignity of it but Hannibal recognizes the importance of getting the full experience. His cheeks bulge as he pushes the last bite into his mouth. 

He’s still chewing when he feels Will’s fingers at his belly. They trace over the curve of his gut, down to where his stomach sits in his lap, then slide between his underbelly and thighs. Will hooks his fingers into the hems of Hannibal’s jacket and shirt, drawing them up to uncover his belly. With Hannibal’s gut exposed to the night air Will seems dazzled by how _much_ of Hannibal there is. His eyes rove from the round upper belly—still so full—to the soft dough sagging between his legs. Hannibal almost reaches for his own love handles, almost squeezes the rolls of fat bulging over his waistband just to torture Will. Instead he allows himself to be displayed and waits for Will to touch him first. 

Will finally puts his palms to Hannibal’s skin and begins to massage in loose circles. His ministrations earn a hum of pleasure from Hannibal, who arches slightly to push his bulk into Will’s hands. Will grins and begins to knead deeper. “You’re getting pretty big, Hannibal,” he murmurs. He takes a handful of dough and teases, “all these s’mores are making you fat.”

Hannibal pats his gut, making the fat wobble in the firelight. He doesn’t miss the way Will’s eyes widen at the sight. “Actually, Will, I could argue that you are making me fat," he says. "Though things between us are as they have always been. No telling who is manipulating whom.”


End file.
